


Antics

by redlion96



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Sherlock, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff? i guess?, M/M, Protective Sherlock, sherlock being an annoying little cock, sherlock blows john, they're both drunk tho lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlion96/pseuds/redlion96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John get piss drunk and kiss for the first time. A nice bj follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antics

“Rubbish!” Sherlock exclaimed abruptly, interrupting the film again that evening. He and John lay spread out on the couch, watching The Notebook. John pursed his lips together, releasing a long breath. How they end up watching this particular film is a mystery and he was beginning to regret it. "Let me explain-"  
"Sherlock! It's a film."  
“Logically speaking, Allie’s mother could not have taken her mail every single day completely unnoticed!”  
"Sherlock," John warned.  
"It's statistically impossible considering all the possible scenarios that could occur every morning for 365 days. The mother couldn't have waited by the mailbox, coincidentally every morning at the correct time to collect the post! And there isn't even any post on Sundays so he could only have sent 313 letters," Sherlock threw a nut at the television screen, aiming directly at Ryan Gosling's face. "Noah isn’t even good-looking anymore with that atrocious beard. Rather comparable to your horrendous facial hair experimentation whilst I was dead.”  
"Right." John grabbed the remote and switched off the television. “We’re done here. Unless you want to watch something else?"  
"No." Sherlock threw another peanut at the black screen.  
"Want to do something else?"  
"No." An almond this time.  
"For the love of God, Sherlock, would you stop doing that!"  
A pause.  
"No." At John's face this time. John stood up, growling.  
“You're exasperating! Did you know that?"  
"It hasn't gone unmentioned." Sherlock grumbled, masticating a nut indiscreetly.  
“Worse than a child!"  
"I'm bored," Sherlock exclaimed, pouting animatedly. "Booooored!" he continued loudly, this time heaving his whole body down, reaching at the adjacent table. John immediately snatched the hand gun from it. "Not that again! Do you want Mrs. Hudson to die of a heart attack?” He hissed.  
Sherlock crossed his arms. He slowly licked his lips in thought before standing abruptly.  
"Alright John, I have an idea. Fetch your coat, we're going out."  
"At this time of night? To do what?"  
"Go fetch it!" He exclaimed. "We're going to have FUN!"  
God knows what he’s up to, John thought hopelessly, momentarily closing his eyes in frustration.

 

"Alright - alright, Sherlock," John pulled the bottle of beer out of Sherlock's merciless grasp. "I think you've had enough."  
Sherlock squinted his eyes threateningly, before lifting an arm in the air. The bartender sauntered towards them and John buried his forehead in the palm of his hand.  
“Since my dear friend John, here, is unwilling for me to finish my beer, I shall order myself some shots-"  
John's eyes whipped open. "Shots?!"  
"Lucky for you gentlemen, it's Tuesday night, unlimited shots until 1am for 20 quid-"  
"Excellent!" Sherlock exclaimed giddily. "Only four tequilas for now!"  
"Oh not tequila," John groaned. “Do enlighten me, what the bloody hell is your incentive here?"  
Sherlock leaned over the table, a sly smirk playing on his lips. John breathed in the strong alcoholic scent mixed with Sherlock's aftershave, feeling an icy jolt sweep up his spine.  
"Boooored." Sherlock extended the word, his voice coarse with a delirious smirk.  
"Dear God, you're piss drunk already aren't you,"  
"Of course I am! Isn't that the point, John? And as my companion, you're suppose to be doing this with me! I can tell you're unusually tense, so I suggest you take advantage of the liquor to loosen yourself a bit." Sherlock pushed the shot glass that was just delivered on the table slowly towards John. "How do you think I do it? With my mind persistently palpitating with intellect, facts, inductions and deductions about everything and anything, drowning my brain into a merciful plea to calm it? Liquor, my good friend," Sherlock ended his speech by downing his shot and wiping his mouth with a satisfying grin. "Now go ahead!"

John balanced the tiny glass between his fingers before letting out a breath.  
"God help me,"

—

An hour had flown by and John's head was falling on the table, numb and lightly throbbing, while Sherlock busily downed his 5th or 15th shot of tequila - neither were really keeping track of their alcohol consumption. Nevertheless, the moment was surprisingly pleasant and Sherlock leaned his head down to meet John's gaze. Their noses nearly touched and John felt suddenly aware of the air they shared.  
"Before you said something," John said, his voice uncoordinated.  
"I say a lot a lot a lot of things, so specificity may be necessary."  
"You said you felt I was tense. Why?"  
"That was just to get you drinking."  
"No, it wasn't."  
Sherlock had opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sight of John suddenly drenched, down to the roots of his hair. Incessant laughter followed, to which both Sherlock and John turned to see two men with smirks plastered on their faces, holding empty glasses.  
"Faggots." The blonde one spat and half a second later Sherlock stood, his nostrils dilating.  
“Excuse me?” He growled and John immediately stood also.  
“Fag-"  
It happened so fast that John didn't even have time to blink before seeing the Blonde on the floor with blood trickling down his nose and the dark haired one wrestling Sherlock on the ground.  
"You downright cunt, take that back!" He cried out, pulling violently on the other guys hair.  
"Sorry- AHH. SORRY."  
"Sherlock, I think that's enough-"  
"It isn't when we've got ourselves an arrogant arsehole!" Sherlock shouted furiously, before dropping the guy on the ground, creating a loud thud.  
And suddenly, out of no where, John began laughing and Sherlock looked utterly confused before a smirk started to form on his lips. It didn't take long before they were both laughing hysterically for no particular reason whatsoever and a security guard walked towards them.  
"Out. Now. Don't make me force you.”  
"I'd like to see you try," Sherlock exclaimed devilishly, followed by a high-pitched giggle. They both cracked up with laughter again and John had to hold on to Sherlock's arm to keep himself from falling as the muscles in his abdomen began to ache.

 

Their behaviour didn't seem to have pleased the security guard whatsoever, who did in fact succeed in kicking the drunken pair out of the bar. Sherlock and John were now both sat on the sidewalk in the bitter cold and the laughter had finally died down. John looked up to meet Sherlock's gaze. His disheveled curls and the fresh beads of blood on his lips gave him a ridiculously disoriented countenance and John giggled under his breath.

"What?" Sherlock asked, furrowing his eyebrows.  
"You've got blood there." John pressed a finger lightly to Sherlock's swollen lip. "Does it hurt?"  
Sherlock paused, his piercing blue eyes appearing to scrutinise John, trying to decipher his thoughts. John wasn't sure what he was thinking himself, apart from the fact that Sherlock's was so close he could hear the rapidly increasing heartbeat and unsteady warm breaths.  
"Not at all. Could you..." Sherlock began, somehow lost for words. “Wipe it off?”  
“The blood?”  
Sherlock slowly nodded his head, eyeing John with intense curiosity.  
The request was ridiculous but the alcohol in John's system inhibited any rational thought. He licked a thumb and slowly began tracing the curve of Sherlock's defined lips, seeing the crimson blood delicately disappear. Absurd images began to rush through John's mind, frightening him. What would Sherlock's plump lips feel like against his own? Would Sherlock object if he tried? Would they regret it the following morning? What do these feelings even mean?  
"What are you thinking?" Sherlock asked carefully, his voice heavy.  
John paused. ”You're Sherlock Holmes. Figure it out."  
"I don't want to risk being wrong."  
"You never are,"  
"Flattering and plausible. …But I'd rather hear it from you."  
John seemed lost for words. "I can't explain it."  
Sherlock smiled mischievously and leaned down to press his lips against the shell of John's ear. "Then show me." He whispered. John's mind was buzzing, his breath quivering with anticipation. Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's, and at that moment only a single thought was on his mind:

_Fuck it._

John dangerously fluttered his lips against Sherlock's jawline, slightly hesitant and observant of Sherlock's reaction. Dark eyes looked directly into John's, causing a burning sensation to erupt through him. Ever so slowly, John moved his lips carefully towards Sherlock's, pausing for only a second before feeling the warmth of their lips pressing against each other's. The alcohol in John's system seemed to both intensify and distance the electrifying thoughts that vibrated inside his skull. He then slowly tucked his fingers inside the warmth of Sherlock’s coat, feeling him tremble underneath, while their lips began to move delicately against each other’s. The kiss started slow, shallow and rather innocent, hesitant at all the lines they were crossing.

“Don’t feel well,” John suddenly heard Sherlock mumble sickeningly as they pulled apart, his eyes screwed shut. He opened them again to see John looking at him with a panic-struck expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked and Sherlock shook his head.  
“Don’t feel well.” Sherlock’s voice felt awfully distant. John stood up, pulling Sherlock up with him.  
“Let’s take you home.”

Sherlock had stumbled all the way back to their apartment, muttering nonsense and digging his curls into the crook of John's neck.  
"You know, John, you're not too bad for a mediocrity,” Sherlock confessed drowsily. "Actually, I'm rather fond of you."  
John raised an eyebrow - despite the throbbing headache, he'd sobered up a little but Sherlock was still absolutely smashed. John was still in a state of utter shock from the previous event however, trying not to think about what was to become of it.

 _I kissed Sherlock_ , John thought intensely but was interrupted by Sherlock's tightening grip on his wrist as they walked up the stairs of 221B Baker Street.

"I'm going to fall."  
"No you won't"  
"I will."  
"Sherlock-"  
Too late. Sherlock collapsed just as they arrived at the top of the stairs, tumbling down the steps.  
"Fuuuuucckk it hurts,"  
"Oh Good Lord. Are you okay? What hurts?"  
Sherlock groaned, his body sprawled across the steps.  
“Everything.”

John helped Sherlock stumble up into the apartment before collapsing on the couch.  
“You lie down, I’ll get you some water.” John murmured, pushing the damp curls off Sherlock’s forehead. Sherlock smiled faintly, his eyes crinkling.  
“Kiss me first. Like you did before.”  
John’s fingers stopped moving as he looked into Sherlock’s eyes intently. It was much different now - (more or less) sober, where Sherlock had actually acknowledged the previous event out loud. And he wanted more.  
John caressed a calloused thumb over the sharp plane of Sherlock’s cheekbone, down to his jawline, hearing his hollow breathing. Slowly, he captured Sherlock's top lip between his own, whilst tightly tugging his curls and drawing little circles with his thumb at his temples. Sherlock's guttural moan vibrated through the kiss until John reluctantly pulled away.  
"Water." He croaked and left the living room. Half a minute later he was back and Sherlock sat up to drink. John watched him quench his thirst, oddly fascinated. Sherlock quickly finished the glass, dropping it to the ground and then clasped his hands together.  
“How are you feeling?” John asked.  
“Surprisingly better,” Sherlock sighed satisfyingly. "You're a very good kisser, I must say. I've recently conducted an experiment on the correlation between the duration of relationships and kissing abilit-"  
"Sherlock," John laughed, interrupted. "do you ever shut up?"  
Sherlock knit his eyebrows together in a rather amusing expression.  
With a chuckling sigh, John leaned down and kissed Sherlock again, transferring his weight on top of him. To John's surprise and amusement, Sherlock was incredibly responsive as their kiss deepened.

John then felt a hot hand hunt above his shirt, clumsily undoing the tiny buttons. Soon enough it was off, along with Sherlock's at the same time. The feeling of bare chests pressed hard together, trapping beads of sweat that could belong to either of them felt incredibly intimate. John inhaled sharply as Sherlock slid his lips down to John's collarbone. Sucking there, John felt him mark his territory, suddenly awake and darkly demanding. His tongue then slowly traced the shapes of John's heaving chest, fluttering kisses here and there. John tugged hard on Sherlock's hair, holding on to dear life as fingernails dug into John's hips as Sherlock caught a nipple between his teeth. John immediately released a primitive moan.  
"Sherlock," he panted. A mop of wild curls lifted - Sherlock's irises were dilated and his lips puffy and pink, still slightly bruised from the previous event. The strain in John's pants was unavoidable now and Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he moved his hand down to palm his crotch.  
"May I... Touch you?" He asked politely, cocking his head to the side.  
"Please," John moved his hands down to unbuckled his belt. "Now,"  
Sherlock moved his hands away, using his right arm to pin them above his head.  
"Let me." With his left, Sherlock slid the belt off, discarding to the ground, before slowly undoing the zip.  
John pressed his lips against Sherlock's again, who pulled down John's trousers to his knees. Sherlock teasingly traced the outline of John's cock, causing his hips to automatically lift to attain more friction. He groaned loudly when Sherlock's hand slid inside his pants and Sherlock immediately cupped a large hand over John's mouth.  
"Shhh." Sherlock warned. "Not. A. Sound."  
John looked at him disorientedly, eyes wide.  
Once his pants were off completely, Sherlock spat in his palm for lubrication and took John with his hand, beginning with slow and deliberate movements. John should have felt somewhat uncomfortable, embarrassed even, to be so exposed and desperate for Sherlock's touch - the only thing existent in his mind, however, was the feeling of large, hot hands covering every inch of his cock with every stroke. and the fact that it was Sherlock - the man he'd felt so guilty about having fantasised about for months, attempting to escape every explicit thought from his mind - intensified the pleasure insufferably.  
"Faster," John croacked, and Sherlock obeyed diligently.

"God you're fucking fantastic," John said between breaths, his fingers digging into Sherlock's back. "How - how do you know this so well?"  
"Don't talk, John. Focus on your orgasm." Sherlock responded flatly, but a small smile played on his lips, indicating that he'd appreciated the compliment. John then felt another set of fingers begin to delicately fondle with his balls and he nearly lost it when Sherlock scraped a nail cautiously across the perineum.  
Sherlock's mouth hovered above his ear, gently blowing hot air. "Do you like this?" His voice was incredibly low pitched, nearly intimidating. Before letting him answer, he caught John's ear lobe between his teeth, wildly tugging and sucking hard on the soft skin.  
"Sherlock - I'm gonna-"  
"Hold it." Sherlock warned, slowing the pace. He lifted himself off John, gripping his thighs. Slowly, Sherlock lowered his head, licking the base of John's cock. In one movement, Sherlock then hollowed his cheeks and took him in fully. John lost the space in his lungs to breathe immediately. Sherlock delivered the precise amount of pressure that would inhibit orgasm but make John see stars. He glanced down to meet eyes with Sherlock's, who's lips were obscenely stretched around John. The sight itself was so incredibly hot that John could've come from that gaze alone.

Sherlock pulled up, pressing his lips against the hard, hot skin of John's cock.  
"Are you ready to come for me?" He asked coarsely and John released an incomprehensible groan as the following suction intensified. It wasn't long before he felt the explosive build up in his abdomen, to which he became blind for a few seconds as the waves of pleasure rolled through his body. Fluttering his eyes open, he saw Sherlock with semen staining his cheek, nose and lips with a playful smile on his face.  
"You need to cut back on the coffee,” he said matter of factly and John rolled his eyes, laughing.  
"Only you would be able to comment on my diet after sucking me off,"  
Sherlock smiled and his eyelashes fluttered closed as John caressed his scalp, fingers trapped in the black curls. He pulled Sherlock up, their lips locked in a hot mess of saliva.  
Sherlock then delicately kissed John's nose and forehead, before moving off him.  
"I'm going to wash this off." He said with a wink. A few seconds later, John attempted registering what had just happened - he was still sprawled on the couch with his pants down and sweat trickling down his forehead. He was still dizzy with knees weak from the intense orgasm he'd just had, but tried lifting himself up for the sake of dignity. Sherlock soon returned with black boxers hanging low on his narrow hips and damp curls from having washed his face.  
"You came much faster than you usually do while watching porn," Sherlock said slyly, moving to sit on the couch. John's eyes widened.  
"How do you know how long it usually take- actually, I don’t even want to know,”  
“It’s rather quite obvi-“  
“Sherlock.” John laughed. “You bloody bastard, come here," he laughed and pushed him down, pressing his lips against Sherlock's. Sherlock cupped John's face between his hands and hummed happily in the kiss as their mouths moved together. John couldn't resist his lips curve to a smile into the kiss as the thoughts of Sherlock's ridiculous antics. He could get used to them.

\- End


End file.
